


Impasse

by thepecolns



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Gen, and John is still anti-synthetic, let's pretend things didn't get better at the end of the pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepecolns/pseuds/thepecolns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've already told you I'm not like them."</p>
<p>On a better day, Kennex knows he would agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impasse

 " _Synthetic calibration_ _incomplete_." 

Those three words echo within the small space of the car, loud and harsh, made worse by the synthetic tone that voices them. 

Kennex tenses and grits his teeth over the shooting pain spiralling from the ghost of his missing leg. His grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight, the skin stretching thin over strained knuckles. 

When he woke up from the coma, the doctors told him the synthetic would provide him with the chance of a normal life. They never told him the damn thing would hurt as if it were still made of muscle and bone. 

The urge to cast it from the car is strong. Stronger yet is the desire to drink until everything fades into blissful nothingness. A dark promise that lies just within grasp. 

He imagines it sometimes, the quiet void that would await him, similar to the coma he can't quite recall. 

" _Synthetic calibration_ _incomplete_." 

It's worse this time when the car actually swerves as his vision blacks out for a second or two. He rights the course swiftly, narrowly missing a vehicle in the adjacent lane. Yet he isn't quick enough to prevent the pained gasp that escapes when he's forced to slow the car with the failing limb. 

Kennex knows it's too late to mask it, anyhow. He can see the blue lights flickering across the synthetic's face, scanning for what it already knew back at the crime scene where the whole thing started. 

That his partner is damn well falling apart. 

"Maybe we should pull over for a bit." There's a pause, as though he actually expects him to agree, and then, "I think it's best I drive the rest of the way." 

The detective barely holds back a laugh. "You think I'm gonna let a synthetic drive my car?" 

This time, the silence crackles with tension. "Then I'd at least advise you get your leg checked out before it ends up getting you killed."

_Advise_. 

Kennex zeros in on the single word, feeling an all too familiar sensation sparking to life. It’s a mixture of bitterness and resentment and a pure hatred for all things robotic that he’s harboured since opening his eyes a few months before. 

He barely even registers the irritation in Dorian's voice, be it from the _synthetic_ gibe or simply that the DRN's losing his patience with him. Whatever it is, he doesn't notice because the word is already throwing him back to the crime scene an hour before. 

It wasn't the mention of Myklon Red this time, nor was it a sound or familiar face. 

It was the smell of smoke. 

He never did locate the source, but then, he hadn't needed to. The smell alone was enough to trigger the broken switch within him, to warp it into fire and burning flesh until he was suddenly back during the raid again, seconds from the fatal shot that took both his limb and his partner. 

His one good leg almost buckled beneath him, the other shutting down about the same time his mind had. A quick hand against the wall kept him upright, providing something solid to cling to as he fought to regain control. 

In the end, it couldn't have lasted longer than a couple of seconds. He thought his lapse had gone unnoticed, at worst, to appear as a mere stumble on uneven ground. 

That’s when he heard -- " _Detective Kennex, it would appear your synthetic leg is malfunctioning. I would advise immediate medical assistance_." 

God, he'd nearly shot the bastard MX. Probably would have, too, had it not been for Stahl turning back, having heard the robot's comment. 

Something worse than anger twists in his gut as he's reminded of the way she looked at him. Pity was always the worst to swallow. He knows she thinks Maldonado should never have cleared him for duty because sometimes he thinks the same damn thing. 

He supposes he should be glad she was his only real witness and not _Richard fucking Paul_ who would've ratted to the Captain the instant he got back to the precinct. 

Then again, he doesn't know Stahl enough to trust her not to report him, that's if her MX hasn't done so already...and then there's Dorian. The synthetic with the bleeding heart who undoubtedly saw it all, watching with those damn lights flashing across his face. 

Maybe he would report to the Captain himself and get them both thrown off the force. 

"I'm not one of your MX buddies," Kennex finally snaps. "What's broken can't be fixed with a few nuts and bolts." 

He doesn't mean to reveal this, to acknowledge the true extent of his damage aloud. However, it’s not the first time he’s said something he shouldn’t amidst the heat of anger, and it won't be the last. He anticipates some kind of statistical response that is sure to either piss him off or make him regret his loose tongue. 

It's neither. 

"They're not my buddies." 

Kennex let's out a derisive snort. "Your brothers, then." 

There's a quiet inhalation of air, most likely drawn through clenched teeth. It's a human action; useless to an android, but proof enough the wrong thing has been said. 

"I've already told you I'm _not_ like them." 

On a better day, Kennex knows he would agree. 

There’s no denying when an MX is nearby; their presence is obtrusive, their very being standing out like a sore thumb. Yet with Dorian, he finds himself forgetting sometimes. Forgetting that Pelham died, and at times, he would turn as though to say something to him, only to find the DRN in his partner’s old seat. 

In a better _world_ , something like that should comfort him, but it doesn’t. It stands as a harsh reminder; forcing the loss further down his throat, and God, does he resent Dorian for it. 

The world is the furthest thing from _better,_  and now that one word has linked them, leaving him too pissed to separate his feelings. 

"Well, you're not human either--" 

"-- because you're so human yourself?" 

Their voices have risen, eyes flashing dangerously. "The hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" 

There's no blunt response, no mechanical description of why the raid left him as an almost human, bitter and cold on the inside. What he gets instead is Dorian casting his gaze out the window, the line of his jaw tight and unyielding. 

" _Hey_!" he growls, refraining from physically lashing out. "I'm talking to you, dammit!" 

Dorian's head snaps round, his electric blue eyes wild with fury.

"You want to know the difference between me and the MXs, _Detective_? It's that had I been there during the raid, I wouldn't have deserted you. _Unlike them_ , I know _exactly_ what it would feel like to hear someone you care about isn't worth saving. Believe me when I say I would not have done that to you. So stop treating me as though I made that mistake." 

His words are like a bucket of icy water to the face. It's the second time now Dorian has used the raid during an argument, both occasions hitting him where it hurt the most…and it's Dorian that escapes this time, throwing open the door and jumping from the moving vehicle. 

" _Dorian_!" Kennex yells after him, fingers closing around thin air when he finds himself trying to stop him. 

A car in the opposite lane slams on the brakes, then another and another as Dorian races across the busy highway. Kennex watches him go; imagining a twisted game of Russian roulette, wondering which car will become the bullet. 

The sickly thump of his heart doesn't altogether surprise him. 

Throwing the MX into oncoming traffic hardly fazed him; the picture Maldonado produced later of the smashed remains amusing him more than it should. What is one less MX compared to the hundreds roaming the streets? But this…this is different. 

There’s only one of Dorian. 

They won't believe he jumped from a moving car on his own accord, but then, it's not their reactions he's thinking about…is it? 

It's the thought of seeing Dorian scattered across the highway that sends a sick feeling twisting right through him and he realises he's still shouting the DRN's name over the roar of the traffic.

_Dammit_. Despite his sour remarks and asshole attitude, he actually wanted to keep this one. 

It's with that confession he watches Dorian make it to the safety of the sidewalk. A sigh of relief washes away the lingering anxiety, forcing his temper to return. 

The hell was he thinking? _Damn crazy bot_. 

Kennex quickly guides the car across the highway until he's driving alongside him. Dorian doesn't turn; he keeps on walking, fists clenched, and expression stony. 

"Get back in the car!" he hollers out the window. "I'm not letting you walk back to the precinct." 

"Why? I thought I was just silicone and carbon fibres to you. It's not like I'm going to get tired, _right_?" 

For an instant, he actually contemplates driving off. _Screw him_. _Let him walk back if he wants to_. Yet he finds he can't, and not because Maldonado will give him hell for it, but because it's his own damn fault Dorian is out there in the first place. 

The same way it would have been his fault had even one of those cars not stopped in time. 

He’s well aware that pushing Dorian's buttons over the synthetic issue would eventually lead to this because pushing _his_ buttons would elicit the same reaction. Kennex hates the word as much as his new partner does. It's why he refuses to have his leg checked out in the first place -- he doesn't need anyone poking and prodding and reminding him he's similar to the very things he hates the most. 

_Well, fuck_. 

Kennex parks up and slides from the car. "Dorian, stop." 

His legs feel unstable now he's away from the safety of the cruiser, but he pushes forward nonetheless when his partner doesn't slow his now unforgiving pace. 

"Come on, man. Just stop, _please_." 

Maybe it's the plea that does it, but finally Dorian pauses and turns back. His face is still a mask of resentment, leaving Kennex unsure of how he’s going to turn this around. In the past, he never stayed long enough to try. He would have driven off by now for sure. 

He keeps approaching nonetheless, genuinely considering an apology when -- " _Calibration_ _failed_ ," -- and his leg gives out mid step. 

The ground meets him quicker than he expects, his hands grazing along the asphalt when he throws them out to protect his fall. He spits out a line of curses when he spots the opaque glow of the artificial skin peeking out the bottom of his pant leg. It isn’t even trying to look human anymore. 

The damn thing may as well of fallen off a few steps ago. 

Dorian is at his side soon after, reaching down to help him up. Embarrassment has him shrugging away from the helping hand, only to have it forced under his arm a second later. 

"Stop being so damn stubborn," he mutters, and Kennex merely grunts when he's yanked to his feet. "Just let me help you." 

The DRN is like a solid wall at his side, providing the kind of purchase he sought earlier. Despite himself, Kennex leans closer, his fingers gripping Dorian's jacket as they hobble back to the abandoned car. 

"Now, are you going to let me drive this thing? Or are you going to force me to watch you crash?" 

_You think I'm gonna let a synthetic drive my car?_  

Kennex falters. It's a stupid matter of pride that makes him want to refuse. The thought of an MX having anything to do with what's rightfully his pushes him in all the wrong ways. But Dorian isn't an MX; he's a _DRN_ , quick with sarcasm and genuine rage. 

A DRN that feels completely human against his side. 

"If you drive me to a hospital, I swear to God I'll have you decommissioned," he warns weakly, too intent on sitting down to put any weight behind the words. 

Dorian bundles him into the passenger seat a little rougher than necessary. "I'm not taking you to a hospital." 

"I don't want to see Rudy, either!" 

He's seen the way the tech savvy nerd eyes his leg whenever he walks in. Would bet anything on Rudy snapping up whatever chance he can to examine it. 

_Hell no_. 

"We're not going to see Rudy," Dorian replies, and Kennex swears he sees him roll his eyes before he slams the door shut. A scowl forms when Dorian slides into the driver's seat, a flicker of a smirk betraying the anger the bot is trying to uphold. 

"So where _are_ you taking me?" 

"Home."

This surprises him, in spite of there being nowhere else _to_ go. "Dorian, I'm halfway through a shift. I can't just go home." 

"You're also at zero percent charge," he shoots back. "Unless of course you would like me to carry you through the precinct? We could hook your leg up while you write your reports. I’m sure that’s something everyone would love to see." 

_Fuck that_. "What about Maldonado?" 

"She's just been notified," he confirms, his face lighting up as he speaks. 

Finding himself out of valid arguments, Kennex sits quietly, fingers idly kneading the point where leg meets prosthetic. Without charge, the thing feels twice as foreign. 

The rest of the journey passes in silence. He doesn't offer directions, the DRN seemingly not requiring them. It doesn't surprise him when they roll up outside his apartment ten minutes later without a single word uttered. 

With his only option just short of dragging himself along the ground, he's actually glad to have Dorian there waiting to help him out. He certainly wouldn’t have asked otherwise, though he figures his pride is shot to shreds by now, anyway, and accepts the hand when it's offered. 

Together they make their way inside. Dorian assists him to the couch, surveying the apartment as he does so. Kennex feels like he's being judged and has to change the subject because he's suddenly never felt so wary of a robot's opinion before. 

"Are you going to report me to Maldonado?" 

Dorian tilts his head, scanning his partner the old-fashioned way. "I believe I could ask you the same thing." 

"Report you?" He goes to ask why, and then it dawns on him. "You mean for jumping out a moving car?" 

Dorian nods once. "Some would call me crazy and have me decommissioned." 

_Only some_? Kennex thinks, the thought filtering through to his expression. 

"I got nothing to report," he eventually says because Dorian's starting to look genuinely worried, and _dammit_ , he suddenly feels like he can't. 

Can't report him, and certainly can't bring himself to be a jerk about the whole thing either, especially since his last assault nearly got the DRN destroyed. 

Maybe _he's_ the crazy one for not wanting to at least notify them of suicidal behaviour in the one person he has to rely on the most. 

"Neither do I." 

Hell, they're both crazy. 

He catches Dorian's gaze and offers a quick nod of gratitude. Having never really mastered the art of saying thank you, he hopes it's enough. 

"Have a good night, Detective." 

It's the first time today his title is used without a side of biting irony. It's the first time since Kennex _woke him up_ that they've both been truly civil to one another, what with all their other encounters having been tainted by one thing or another. 

Dorian's nearly at the door when it dawns on Kennex how much the combination of his dark aura and failing limb has rubbed off on the synthetic soul. It is realisations like that which make him want to change. 

"I can't trust the MXs," he blurts out. 

He’s aware of what he wants to say, but he confuses the order when he rushes to engage his partner. If he doesn’t say it now, he may never find the chance again. 

It appears confusion doesn’t stop with him when Dorian's brow knits together. 

"I can't trust that they won't cast me aside, the way they did to Pelham.” _That they’ll think I’m not worth saving, either_ , he falters over silently. “It makes it harder not to group you all together on days where I question whether or not I’d do the same." 

Kennex has to look away because comprehension is starting to dawn on the other man's face, and apologising comes even harder. 

"I know you're not like them. I see it every day," he continues, his eyes ironically finding his leg. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I'm sorry." 

When he looks up, Dorian's face is in full disco mode. Kennex wonders suddenly if his apology is being scanned for sincerity or worse yet, if the guy is shorting out because of it. 

Eventually the lights fade, being replaced with a slight curve of his lips. "Apology accepted." 

Now that he has nothing more to say, Kennex manages another awkward nod. "Good. That's...that's good." 

The DRN is full on smirking now, clearly pleased despite his partner's discomfort. Kennex barely refrains from narrowing his eyes, wondering if this is something he'll have to get used to now they've met at this mutual understanding. 

"Get some rest, Detective. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow.” 

With that, Dorian turns and is gone a moment later, the door clicking shut behind him. 

For a long time after, Kennex sits recounting the day’s events. He's still bitter about the MX's remark, and knowing Stahl heard makes it even worse. He also doesn’t know what excuse Dorian gave to Maldonado to sign him off, so the fact he still has to face the possible repercussions is something he can't avoid. 

In spite of all that, he finds himself in a pretty decent mood. For the first time in almost two years, he finally feels he has a partner he can trust again. 

Tomorrow, he'll ask Dorian to start calling him John.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked my first AH fic!


End file.
